


Reaching for help

by Lysore



Series: The Choices of Beatrice Prior [7]
Category: Divergent - All Media Types, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Choosing Ceremony, Gen, Tris' PoV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 19:03:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13277925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysore/pseuds/Lysore
Summary: There is a time for pride and there is a time when a person is so out of their depth they need to seek an external point of view. When there is no way out, family is always there to fall back on.





	Reaching for help

**Author's Note:**

> The original works are not mine, never were, never will be. This is done purely for my own enjoyment, and yours too, should you happen to like what will follow. More specifically: some passages have been taken/paraphrased directly from the books. Those passages are obviously even less mine.  
> On the other hand, since there is no beta, I can lay claim to all the mistakes present in the text !

“Divergence is extremely dangerous.”

I mull over Tori’s words as I walk back home. I need to clear my head. More importantly: my father will notice if I get home early: he checks the house log every evening so he will make me explain what happened. This means I will also have to intercept Caleb before he mentions anything to our parents. It shouldn’t be too problematic. Caleb is like me, he can keep a secret. Neither of us are Candor material. But contrarily to me, he won’t be filled with doubt regarding his choice. He is innately selfless, always ready to help. He is such an obvious Abnegation he could have skipped the test altogether.

I come to a stop in front of my house. A quick look at my watch tells me Caleb will be there soon: the bus should have dropped him by the entrance of Abnegation by now. My prediction is proven correct as grey-robed forms appear at the end of the street. I steel myself: my brother is both perceptive and curious. He won’t stop until he has gotten a satisfying answer.

“Beatrice!” Caleb exclaims as soon as he reaches my level. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” I answer him curtly but I wince internally: his eyebrows have that little furrow that always indicate he is trying to make sense of a problem or another. But he is with Susan and her brother Robert, so he won’t call me out on my lie for a few more minutes. Susan is eying me reprobatively, as though I spurned her by choosing to make an exception to our normal school routine by walking back home. I shrug. “When the Test was over, I got sick. Must have been that liquid they gave us. I feel better now, the walk helped clear the nausea.”

I try to smile convincingly. I seem to have persuaded Susan and Robert for their faces become more open but I can see Caleb is still not fooled by my act. Robert and Susan stay for some small talk before continuing their way to their home and Caleb and I go inside ours.

“Are you going to tell me the truth now?” he asks softly, once the door has closed behind us.

“The truth is that I’m not supposed to discuss it. And you’re not supposed to ask.” It doesn’t come out like I intended at all. What was supposed to have been a conciliatory tone had transformed into a harsh hiss.

“All those rules you bend, and you can’t bend this one? Not even for something this important?” His words are accusatory but his tone is hurt with a hint of curiousness underneath.

I can’t help but narrow my eyes defensively: why does he need to keep probing me for answers? “Will you? What happened in your Test, Caleb?”

Our eyes meet but I am the first to lower my eyes. I shouldn’t be so defensive, he is only trying to help me. I wish I could speak to him about it.

“Just…don’t tell our parents what happened, okay?” I mumble tiredly.

His eyes stay on me for a few seconds, and then he nods. Crisis adverted.

I want to go upstairs and lie down. The Test exhausted me and the walk back home didn’t bring any answer. Unfortunately, it’s my turn to cook since my brother made breakfast this morning, my mother prepared our lunches, and my father made dinner last night. I heave a deep, tired sigh, and walk into the kitchen to prepare tonight’s dinner. Though he doesn’t need to, Caleb joins me a minute later so we work together in a stilted silence.

Amidst my chopping of the vegetables, a terrible thought strikes me. Maybe I didn’t understand Tori earlier when she said Divergence was dangerous. I thought being Divergent meant I fit into all three Factions. But what if it was the opposite? The Test said Abnegation but I know I am not truly selfless. It also said Erudite but I am not the brightest in my class. It tempted me with the promise of Dauntless but I know I am not that brave, no matter how much I wish to be. Being Divergent could mean only parts of me fit into each of the Factions. Of course it would be dangerous. We are supposed to completely adhere to the principles of our Faction of choice since this is the only way our society can peacefully function. If I cannot really belong to my Faction, I will fail my Initiation and become Factionless. Worse, if I somehow manage to become a full member, deep down I won’t really belong to my Faction. I will be a mistake, I will corrupt our system. This must be why Tori warned me. But why? Did she take pity of me be and ordered me to keep silent on the subject because normally Divergent people automatically become Factionless? Did she make an exception for me, a total stranger?

“Beatrice? Are you sure you are alright?”

Caleb interrupts my increasingly frantic train of thoughts. I realise I stopped moving and hastily start to steer the peas cooking on the stove anew to prevent them from burning. Caleb stops me in mid-motion to gently turn my head toward him.

“Beatrice?” He says again. Oh right, I didn’t answer him. “You look pale. Maybe the Test did make you sick. Do you want to sit down for a moment?” His eyes are soft as he speaks softly and his brows are furrowed in concern. His care shakes me from my daze.

“I’m fine, just a bit dizzy.” He presses his lips together and I force my own lips into a shaky smile. I know my lack of honesty earlier frustrated him but I am not lying this time: I do feel like the floor is giving way under my feet. He carefully squeezes my shoulder in an accepting motion and goes back to his part of the cooking, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Those horrible thoughts. I fight the urge to call out to him and focus. They can’t be true. There must be another explanation because this one is too horrible to keep dwelling on it. But I can’t help it: the more I think about it, the more things makes sense. Tori’s worry, her unease with my result.

Abruptly, I come to another realization: what if Tori wasn’t being nice to me? She had no reason to, we were strangers and she was a Dauntless, not an Abnegation. Her behaviour could have been a trap. The volunteers could be ordered to act the way she did, that way, there won’t be any panic from the Divergents within the Factions. They know we will never dare to breath a word about our problem to anyone: who their right mind would tell other people they failed the only Test no-one can fail? Meanwhile, they take note of our names so we can be eliminated during Initiation. There was no-one from Candor administering the Test so no one was forbidden from lying.

I shake my head. No. No. Nearly all the volunteers come from Abnegation. One of my mother’s duties is to recruit them. She would never let this happen. Or she simply doesn’t know about this, she never volunteered for this job herself after all.

“Beatrice, you look like you are about to faint. Come on, sit down. I will handle the rest.” Noiselessly, I let my brother push me toward a chair and for once, I fully appreciate his compassion and gentle manners. Once I am seated, I realise I am trembling. At least, there is something positive about this nightmare: he doesn’t seem to doubt my earlier excuse anymore. It might be because I truly feel sick now.

By the time my parents get home, dinner is ready, the table is set, and the room has stopped swaying all around me. My father drops his bag at the door and kisses my head.

“How did the Test go?” he asks me.

“Fine.” Fortunately, I have recovered enough to lie convincingly.

“I heard there was some kind of upset with one of the Tests,” my mother says.

“Really?” my father answers. A problem with the aptitude Tests is rare and I don’t miss the way Caleb’s eyes flicker in my direction though he remains thankfully silent.

“I don’t know much about it, but my friend Erin told me something went wrong with one of the Tests, so the results had to be reported verbally.” My mother places a napkin next to each plate on the table. “Apparently the student got sick and was sent home early.” My mother shrugs, “I hope they’re all right. Did you two hear about that?”

“No,” Caleb says. He smiles at my mother. I smother a nervous giggle: out of us both, he is definitely the best liar.

My parents’ conversation turns to tomorrow’s Choosing Ceremony. The Faction presiding it changes every year. This year, it’s Abnegation’s turn so Marcus will direct it.

I can still participate in the Ceremony tomorrow. It could be a trap but there is still a chance I am being paranoid. I have no way of knowing beforehand anyway so I will go and hope for the best.

In the end, in spite of my Divergence, I don’t have much of a choice: the only Faction where I could fake my way through Initiation would be Abnegation, simply because I was born and raised there. Plus, I know Abnegation rarely turns anyone away. Erudite and Dauntless are another matter entirely: I know nothing about the inner workings of those two Factions and I don’t know how their members are supposed to behave either. The risk of getting caught is too great: the Erudite are too clever and would see through me immediately and the Dauntless, loath as I am to admit it, are not known for their kindness. They would probably tear me to pieces should they realize I am Divergent.

“So,” my mother says tenderly to my father. “Tell me.” She takes my father’s hand and moves her thumb in a small circle over his knuckles. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I had a difficult day at work,” he answers tiredly but the end of his answer is lost to me as I stifle a yawn.

“Is this about that report Jeanine Matthews released?” my mother says. Jeanine Matthews is Erudite’s sole representative. She was selected because her IQ score was the highest in her Faction and my father complains about her often. They seem to butt heads nearly every time they meet each other.

My father’s answer seems interesting but I am exhausted. The onslaught of emotions from earlier took its toll on me and the soft tones of my parents’ conversation lull me into a half-sleeping state for the rest of the meal.

 

My parents clean up after dinner. They don’t even let Caleb help them, because we are supposed to keep to ourselves tonight so we can think about our results. On a normal evening, we would have gathered in the family room: conversation at dinner time is reserved to the adults. The Dependents of Abnegation are only allowed to talk and ask them questions during the time dedicated for that purpose after diner in the family room.

My parents might be able to help me, if I could talk to them about my results. But I can’t. Tori’s warning resonates in my mind every time my resolve to keep my mouth shut falters. For the first time in my life, I am truly alone. I, who live in the Faction of mutual assistance, cannot rely on anyone but myself at this precise moment. I have to stifle a sob at this realization.

Caleb and I climb the stairs leading to our bedrooms. Before I can enter into mine, he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

“Beatrice,” he says, looking earnestly into my eyes. “We should think of our family.” A sombre edge enters his voice, “But we must also think of ourselves.”

For a moment I stare at him, motionless. I have never seen him think of himself, never heard him insist on anything but selflessness. I am so startled by his comment my answer comes out on autopilot, “The Tests don’t have to change our choices.”

He smiles a little. It is a sad smile which makes my chest ache and my stomach knot with worry.

“Don’t they, though?”

He squeezes my shoulder in a strange parody of a hug and walks into his bedroom. I feel the urge to hold him back, to make him explain this advice so uncommon coming from him. Could it be the Test didn’t tell him his place is in Abnegation? Is it why he is behaving so strangely? As unlikely as it is, it’s still a frightening idea.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts and walk into my room before closing my door behind me. I lean against it for some time, I don’t know how long, thinking about everything and nothing. Amidst those chaotic thoughts, a new resolve slowly emerges.

My mind made up, I pull myself from my door and open it again. Now is not the time to be too proud.

 

The huge amphitheatre which hosts the Choosing Ceremony is arranged in three distinct sections. I will go to one of them with the other sixteen-year-olds Dependents of every Faction. When I hear my name, I will go to the platform in the middle of the room. Marcus is already there, standing beside the five bowls, each containing a substance that represents a Faction. There are grey pebbles for Abnegation, water for Erudite, earth for Amity, lit coals for Dauntless, and glass shards for Candor. Once my blood has dropped into one of the bowls, I will walk to the last section, where full fledged members of every Faction are currently taking their seats in their respective section.

Before we separate, our parents stop in front of Caleb and me.

My father kisses my forehead and claps Caleb on the shoulder, grinning. “See you soon,” he says without a trace of doubt.

Once he is done, my mother steps forward to hug me. She holds me for what feels like a long time, and I hug her back fervently, soaking up the affection she is giving me. Before she pulls away, she turns her head and whispers reassuringly in my ear, “You are a brave girl Beatrice, everything will be alright. You are making the right decision. I am so proud of you.” Her words make a warm feeling course through me. I watch my parents walk away, feeling stronger than before.

Caleb grabs my hand. He is squeezing my palm so tightly it hurts, but I don’t let go. We need each other’s strength right now. Hand in hand, we go and take our place with the other Dependents.

The noise in the room slowly dwindles to nothing and Marcus moves to the centre of the stage. He clears his throat into the microphone. “Welcome,” he says. “Welcome to the Choosing Ceremony. Welcome to the day we honour the democratic philosophy of our ancestors, which tells us every man has the right to choose his own way in this world.”

As he continues his speech, I realize Caleb’s fingers are moist around mine and he is squeezing my fingers so hard I am starting not to feel them anymore. I tug on his hand a bit to make him look at me and offer him a smile I hope he will find reassuring. For once, he seems to be the one in need of comfort and not me. I lean toward him. “Everything will be alright,” I whisper in an echo of my mother’s earlier words. “So long as you are certain of it, your choice will be the right one. Remember what you told me yesterday? Today, you are allowed to think of yourself only.” He gives me a tremulous smile and his grip on my hand tightens even more. I didn’t know he had that much strength in his hands. He begins to stand a little straighter though so I report my gaze back on Marcus. We missed quite a bit of his speech but I do not feel guilty about it. Caleb needed this interlude.

“– far more than can be adequately summarized. In our Factions, we find meaning, we find purpose, we find life. Apart from them, we would not survive.”

I think of the motto I’ve read in my Faction History textbook: Faction before blood. More than family, our Factions are supposedly where we belong. In light of the events of yesterday evening, I can’t help but feel this is only partially right, of not downright wrong. Family can transcend Factions. Family should transcend Factions under special circumstances.

“Therefore this day marks a happy occasion: the day on which we receive our new Initiates, who will work with us toward a better society and a better world.”

There is a round of applause and Marcus starts reading the first names. The Choosing Ceremony has officially begun. Looking around me, I am startled to realise that most of my fellow Dependents look nervous. I seem to be the calmest and most confident of us all. I am definitely grateful for yesterday’s events.

 

I decided to ignore Tori’s order. So I went to the family room. I was hoping to find at least one of my parents there, even if Caleb and I were supposed to have gone to our rooms for the night. To my great relief, my mother was inside. Her melancholic look gave way to surprise and then to concern when she noticed me slipping through the door to join her. She swiftly got up from her seat and started to walk toward me. That broke the last shreds of my composure and I threw myself into her waiting arms. I do not remember ever doing that before but suddenly, all the stops were out. I found myself clutching her shoulders frantically and blurting out everything to her in between heaving sobs: the Test, my being the problematic result my father was talking about at diner, my Divergence, what I thought it meant, and please mother, please what do I do, I do not want to become Factionless.

She listened to me and let me cry. Once I was calm again, she told me her own amazing story. How could I ever have guessed? How could I have known how wrong I was about my Divergence? The tales she told me, about the Bureau of Genetic Welfare, humanity not having been eradicated by the War, Chicago being but one experimental city amongst many, all the genetic purity thing, everything was so outlandish! If it had been anyone but my mother telling me this story, showing me her tattoos and her scars from her childhood in Milwaukee, explaining to me her secret purpose for being here, or how she had deviated from it a little after falling in love with my father, I wouldn’t have believed them. But it was my mother’s life story and I believed her. I still do. We talked about her, about me, about the city, and about my choices until the first lights of dawn started to illuminate the room.

 

I am calm now, and confident in my chosen path. Finally, I know where I am going. I have a purpose.

“Caleb Prior,” says Marcus.

I hope Caleb knows what he is doing too. He gives my hand one last squeeze before untangling our fingers. Just as he begins to go, I tug him back toward me to whisper to him “No matter what, we will always love you. Never forget that.”

I don’t know why those words suddenly come out of my mouth, but it suddenly seemed important for me to say them. It appears I did the right thing too because his entire countenance becomes more relaxed. I let him go and as he walks away, he casts a long grateful look at me over his shoulder. His feet lead him to the centre of the room. His hands are steady as they accept the knife from Marcus, and deft as one presses the knife into the other. Then, he stills in front of the bowls. His blood is pooling in his palm, and I can discern him worrying his lower lip with his teeth. He is hesitating, I realise, and I mentally send him a whisper of encouragement. He breathes out. In. Out again. Then he takes one last deep breath and holds his hand over Erudite’s bowl. Soon enough, his blood drips into the now pinkish water, turning it a deeper shade of red.

I hear mutters that lift into outraged cries. As for me, it is not so much the fact that he transferred that I find surprising, I had gathered as much from his anxiety, but rather his Faction of choice. Now that I am reflecting on it, I realise it should have been obvious. Beside Abnegation, it is the only Faction that could suit him beside Amity.

I am glad I talked to him, told him I love him, that we all love him. Before walking to his new place in the Erudite section of the room, his eyes go to my parents and what he sees make him wince visibly. His eyes meet mine a few seconds later and I try to send him all the love and encouragements I can with a sincere smile and a nod. He returns it and moves off the stage.

I take a glance around the room. The Abnegation, who are normally so placid, are all speaking to one another in tense whispers and glare across the room at the Faction that has recently become our enemy. In contrast, the members of Erudite wear smug smiles and nudge each other. I go back to scanning the ranks of Abnegation. I catch my mother’s eyes and she offers me a small smile and I return it. She doesn’t look surprised at all. An amused smile tugs at the corners of my lips. She has always been terrifyingly observant, she probably knew of his choice even before Caleb himself made his decision to transfer. I look to my mother’s left and I see the reason for Caleb’s earlier flinch. My father is sitting with his back ramrod straight and vacant eyes. The shock must have hit him hard. I see my mother’s hand taking his to unclench his fists and redirect my eyes to the stage. He is in good hands.

“Excuse me,” Marcus call, but his voice is lost in the middle of all the exclamations that are still bursting from every lips. He shouts, “Quiet, please!”

The room goes silent again.

“Beatrice Prior.”

I stride confidently towards the stage. I am not afraid. I know exactly what my choice will be. Who knows how things could have turned out if I hadn’t gone to the family room yesterday? One thing is certain: I know I wouldn’t have managed to make up my mind before the last second. I am relieved I had the courage to talk, to reach for help yesterday instead of panicking on my own.

I come to a stop in front of Marcus who offers me my knife. I incline my head respectfully towards him and take it. He nods in return, and I approach the bowls. I hold the knife in my right hand and touch the blade to my left palm. I set my jaw and drag the blade down. It stings a little, but not as much as I thought it would. I hold both hands to my chest and take a deep breath.

As I release it, I look over my shoulder and seek my mother’s eyes once again. She stares back at me and nods a little. There is pride in her affectionate gaze.

I turn back towards the bowls and thrust my arm out.

I’ve made my choice: I will help my mother carry out her mission.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a photoset for the story: [here](https://lysore-writes.tumblr.com/post/175040395530/reaching-for-help-on-ao3-there-is-a-time-for) (it's hosted on Tumblr)


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